


Always Bickering

by insufferableknowitall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall
Summary: It's the end of sixth year, and Ron and Hermione are finally talking again - and much to Ginny's frustration, most of that talking is in the form of bickering.





	Always Bickering

It had been going on for hours. Years, really, if Ginny Weasley thought about it. And she was about ready to snap. The three of them were sitting in the Gryffindor common room and waiting for Harry to return from one of his private lessons with Dumbledore. Hermione was on the ground with notes spread out all around her (a clear mark of her insanity as exams approached). Ron was sprawled across one of the red, comfy chairs and Ginny herself was perched behind Hermione, on the couch. From her seat, she could have easily kicked Hermione in the head. She seriously considered it as an option to get the two of them to quit bickering.

And to think that, a little over a month ago, she had been worried that they would never speak again. Now, all she wanted was them to shut up. 

In nearly thirty minutes, Ginny realized that they had bickered over practically every topic in their repertoire. It started over the correct way to write the letter “y” (Hermione said the loop should be long a curvy, whereas Ron argued that cursive was a dead language), had somehow progressed to the ideal way to study for an exam (Hermione said diligently, Ron said cramming), and then ended up on the topic of Harry, whom they discussed with such analysis that, without context, an eavesdropper might think they were discussing their child rather than their friend. 

Much to her frustration, Harry didn’t see it, at least not as clearly as her. Days before, she had said something along the lines of: “If those two don’t start snogging soon, I’m going to jinx them both.” In response, Harry had choked on his pumpkin juice and then tried to shrug it off, pretending he hadn’t been completely oblivious to the tension between his two best friends over the years. 

Ginny had been trying her best not to rock the boat, especially after letting her big mouth run and telling Ron about Hermione’s kiss with Krum. That had precipitated a turn of events that led to a whirlwind of a year for her brother and his best friend. But Ginny simply couldn’t take it anymore. She was the type of person who couldn’t keep herself from rocking the boat. And, ever since Ron had ended things with Lavender, his and Hermione's bickering had swung back into full force - a form of communication, she had learned, that apparently constituted as flirting for the pair. 

“I just don’t think that he’s really taking care of himself,” Hermione was saying, “Honestly, have you seen the way he eats? He picks at his food like a bird.”

“Hermione, _you_ pick at your food like a bird.”

“I suppose everyone eats like a bird when compared to you.”

Ron smirked and said, “Yup, it’s how I keep up my good looks.” He mocked flexing his arms, which earned him a glare from Hermione (accompanied by, to her chagrin, a blush).

She shook her head and continued: “He looks tired, too. Does he sleep at night? Do you notice? You probably _wouldn’t_ notice, since you sleep like a log.”

“He does sleep, and if you’re so concerned, you should ask him. But you won’t, because you know he hates when you nag - ”

“I don’t nag!”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, how many times - “

“SHUT UP!”

Ginny’s outburst earned a few concerned glances from the remaining Gryffindors that hadn’t given up studying for the night. Hermione’s head whipped around, her hair whacking Ginny’s leg, wide eyed and mouth agape. Ron, still sprawled on the chair, crumpled up a spare piece of parchment and chucked it at Ginny’s head. “What’s up your arse?” he asked her, which earned him a muffled, “Language, Ron,” from Hermione. 

“You two!” she exclaimed, motioning at the two of them, “I don’t know how Harry stands it! You two bicker so much, you sound like a married couple! Is it, like, weirdly erotic for the both of you, or something? I can’t tell if it’s a sorry attempt at flirting, or if the two of you hate each other’s guts!”

Ginny knew it wasn’t the ladder, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her. Both Hermione and Ron had turned bright red, Ron sitting up in his chair and Hermione blinking widely at Ginny. “I’m going to bed,” she muttered, “Tell Harry I said goodnight.”

Ginny left the two of them in a nearly empty common room, both wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Her eyes met Ron’s for a brief second, in which he gave her a look reserved specifically for siblings that meant something along the lines of I’m-Going-To-Kill-You. 

Of course, being Ginny Weasley, she didn’t go to bed. She had to make sure she hadn’t completed mucked it up for the two of them, all over again - she stood in the stairwell to the girls’ dormitory, hidden behind the wall from their sight. She could still make out their figures by the fireplace - Hermione had immediately busied herself with organizing the scattered papers on the floor, and Ron was still sitting looking somewhat dumbfounded. 

Ginny shook her head. _They’ll be fine,_ she thought, and almost laughed at loud at how ridiculously red the two of them had turned. And with that, Ginny retreated into her dormitory and told herself that this time, she really was done rocking the boat when it came to the two of them. At least, she was done for that night. 

————————————————————————

The pair remained in the common room well into the night. It was nearly midnight and Harry hadn’t returned - the common room was quiet aside from the crackling of the fire. Hermione remained busy with her studying, and Ron occasionally piped up questions for her about various assignments, to which she responded promptly and accurately. They did what they always did - completely ignored the tension in the air and carried on like usual. 

Except Ron had told himself he wouldn’t do that anymore. He didn’t want to ignore anything between them - especially after the way things had exploded that year. He was so afraid of losing her again, just as a friend, that he didn’t want anything to hang in the air between them. 

“Hey, Hermione?” he spoke suddenly, as she began to stack her papers into a loose pile and stuff them into her bag. 

“Hmm?” 

The fire made her eyes look like they were glowing, and Ron had to swallow hard to keep from losing himself in them. 

“I don’t hate you, you know,” he said, “About what Ginny was saying.” The statement was a given, seeing as they had been best friends for so many years (excluding a previous few months). But Hermione couldn’t help but think of what Ginny had said - _“I can’t tell if it’s a sorry attempt at flirting, or if the two of you hate each other’s guts.”_ If he was clarifying the obvious, that he didn’t hate her, was he also clarifying the opposite? That he thought it was...flirting? 

“We can stop fighting so much, if you want,” Ron suggested, shrugging, “If, you know, you feel like I hate you or something.”

His ears had gone so red they looked as though they had been singed by the fire. 

“It’s not fighting,” Hermione murmured, “It’s more like...bickering. Or bantering. Fighting is much more serious.”

“Are you really correcting me on my word choice right now?” he smirked at her and she smiled back, the blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“Would you expect any different?”

“No, no I would not.”

A heavy silence fell between the two and Hermione paused, watching him screw the cap on his bottle of ink and toss it into his own bag. “Reckon we should send a search party out for Harry?” Ron spoke, not glancing up to see the way she was watching him with an expression that nearly gave away all her hidden feelings, “Doesn’t Dumbledore know he’s gotta get up tomorrow?”

“I don’t mind it,” Hermione blurted out, causing Ron to raise an eyebrow and puzzle, “You don’t mind Dumbledore keeping Harry out late? Weren’t you just saying that he needs more sleep?”

Hermione sighed and shook her head, internally chastising herself for feeling so unreasonably nervous in front of her best friend. “No, no, I mean the bickering. I don’t mind it.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks and slowly glanced up to meet Ron’s eyes. 

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I don’t mind it either. It’s kinda fun.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. It’s just banter. It’s a sign of intelligence, actually.”

“Or maybe a sign I annoy the living hell out of you.”

He grinned at her but she shook her head, her expression much more serious. “You don’t, you know. I mean, you do things that bother me, but you, as a person, don’t annoy me. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t, really.”

She wanted to kiss him so badly to show him what she meant. He looked down into her eyes and noted the ink stains on her cheeks and nose, a sure sign that she had been working so hard she hadn’t noticed when her ink-stained hands flew up to her face and smeared her cheeks. He wanted to kiss her so badly, too - he wanted to kiss each little smudge of ink, on her cheeks and her nose, and then her lips. 

But he couldn’t muck things up again. It had to be her - he didn’t want to push it. 

And she, too, was too terrified to move any closer. 

Perhaps they would have, that night, if it hadn’t been for Harry’s characteristic, impeccably unfortunate timing - the two stood in front of the fire, staring at one another, when Harry burst through the portrait hole and loudly dragged his feet through the room. 

“You two didn’t have to stay up,” he grumbled, “I’m just going straight to bed.” He didn’t notice the blushes on their faces, or how close to one another they had been standing. He just trudged past them, like a grumpy kid arriving home from a long day of school. After he disappeared up the stairs, Ron muttered, “I’ll check on him.”

“Okay. Yes, that's a good idea.”

He threw his own bag over his shoulder. “G’night, Hermione.” He reached out to squeeze her shoulder, a habit he had taken to over the last few weeks. Being close to her had become more and more natural, almost necessary, with each day.

“Goodnight,” she said back. 

That night, Hermione smiled as she lay in her own bed. A door down from her, Ginny slept, unaware that this time, her big mouth had done more good than harm.


End file.
